by Cranford, B.
“Nuh-uh, I’m talking right now.” Kassi frowned at her. “It goes hand in hand with the whole grown-ass adult thing. If you like him, keep seeing him. If you go back to Australia and you still like him, keep seeing him—or speaking to him, or writing him, or having down and dirty FaceTime sex with him.”
She was shaking her head, mentally willing Kassi to stop talking, when her cousin continued, her morning mad clearly fueling her frustration with Rose’s denials.
And lies.
“No buts. Believe me, I know you’ve got one on the tip of your tongue. You’re talking and thinking like someone who sees the end before even considering all the ways it could continue. And that’s going to doom you, so quit it. He’s a good guy. He makes you happy, and”—she paused, taking a deep breath like she was preparing to deal the final blow—“I know you’re thinking about taking Wilbur back to Australia with you. And since you’ve known him, a dog, exactly as long as you’ve know Liam . . .”
“That’s different. Really bloody different, actually,” Rose protested, pushing her breakfast away, having lost her appetite as the anger in the room grew. It was completely and utterly uncalled for, this talking-to she was getting. Wasn’t it? They’d just been joking about talking on the phone and pumpkin patches and now she was getting a lecture?
That was not okay.
“Besides, I don’t need a lecture”—she narrowed her eyes at Kassi, feeling both righteous in her anger and out of control and unable to stop from saying things that she knew she shouldn’t be saying—“from you. Not about Liam or long distance relationships, or anything. Especially not how Wilbur is just ‘a dog.’ Okay? Especially not when you can’t even tell Eli that you like him.” She felt the bitter taste of those snide, immature words on her tongue, but let them stand. “Look, I came over here because I needed a break from my life back home, and some time to figure out what the fuck I wanted. I don’t really see how knowing a guy for a few weeks and liking him requires a talking-to from you.”
Liking him. What a joke. She’d cruised way the hell past liking him about forty-eight hours after he’d taken care of her dog.
“I can just see you thinking of all the reasons it won’t work and I can’t help but think that—”
“Stop thinking about it then.” Rose gritted her teeth and blew out a long breath. Somehow, the conversation had taken this stupid bloody turn and she couldn’t quite work it out. What happened? “I didn’t ask you think to about it.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help you,” Kassi said, her voice softening and becoming cajoling. “Listen, I know it’s not really my place—”
“No shit, Sherlock. It’s not your place. Finally, something you’re right about.” Her tone was a notch above bitchy and she regretted it immediately. What the hell had come over her?
Kassi stopped talking, pushing back from the table and walking out of the room with Wilbur trailing her to the doorway, as if he could see or sense that she was sad.
And Rose felt awful. Like a complete and utter bitch. Probably because she’d acted like one. She hated it, hated herself for acting the way she had with someone who loved her and was just trying to help her.
“Wilbur. Wilby, come ’ere,” she called, leaning down a little to catch his furry little body when he barreled over. She lifted him into her arms, snuggling him close and thinking back over the conversation—the argument—she and Kassi had just had.
She’d never argued with her cousin before. And granted, until she’d moved in with her, they’d spent very little time together, but still. They’d gotten along like a house on fire from the day she’d first arrived in the States last year, and suddenly Rose was jumpy and rude and childish . . .
Fucking hell, I’m a wanker, she thought, hating that she’d twisted what should’ve been a fun morning chat into something so unnecessary.
“Bugger it all,” she muttered, burying her face in Wilbur’s neck and enjoying the way he wiggled about trying to lick her and offer her comfort.
She needed to think about what the hell had just happened.
About what it was about talking about the future and about Liam that made her heart ache and her prickly outer shell fire-up.
* * *
Feeling like she’d been slapped in the face, Rose just barely made it back to her room before she heard the familiar ring of her iPad, signaling a FaceTime call from her parents.
Within the space of one heart beat to the next, her fight with Kassi was forgotten as she grabbed the tablet and swiped across the screen. Given that it was closing in on eight thirty in the morning, it was after midnight for her parents.
They never called this late.
Something had to be wrong.
“Mum?” she asked as soon as she answered, seeing only a black screen that indicated her mum hadn’t called via video, but audio, instead. “Where are you?”
“Bubby, I don’t want you to worry, but I’m at the hospital with Dad.” Her mother’s voice was quiet, which wasn’t unexpected if she was at the hospital. Not that Rose could really quite process that.
All she could think about was—fucking hell, he’s dying.
All she could do was fist her hands and bite back every swear word she knew, starting with the one she’d learned in grade four. Fuck.
“He’s having some chest pain and—”
Spinning around, Rose began eyeing her desk, wondering if her passport was in the drawer there, or . . . Where in the bloody fuck did I leave it?
“Rose.”
“Is he okay, is he going to be okay?” She knew she shouldn’t have interrupted, but she couldn’t help it. The panic coursing through her veins, coupled with the waning adrenaline from her fight with Kassi, made it impossible to think straight.
In her mind, her dad was already gone. And she’d missed saying goodbye.
She’d missed seeing him for months and months as she “found” herself in America.
Oh God.
“Rose Riley,” her mother said, a sternness in her voice that Rose hadn’t heard for a long damn time. Not since she’d been a teenager and she’d acted like a little bitch because . . . reasons. Hormones and puberty and annoying girl shit that she regretted because her dad was dying or dead or—
“For fuck’s sake, Rose, would you listen?” Mum sounded more than a little exasperated, and that more than anything snapped Rose back from the edge she was stupidly teetering on.
Get it together, Rosie. It was Liam’s voice in her head that she heard, and she ached with the need to have him close as she heard whatever it was her mum was about to tell her.
But, instead of wishing that he’d been right that night about making something happen if only you wanted it enough—he would be there soon enough and she could lean on him then, after she knew what was happening—she focused back on her mum.
“Sorry, Mumamushka,” she said, using the endearment because it was comfortable and theirs and felt like home.
Home. After exchanging words with Kassi and thinking about Liam and their seeming lack of future, home was, more than ever, the pinnacle.
The end game.
She wanted to go home, so badly.
But she also wanted Liam just as much.
“Your dad is going to be fine. I brought him in earlier and waited to call until I spoke to the doctors about what was happening. They did some tests, and he’s going to stay overnight so they can follow-up in the morning, but he’s already looking better, okay?”
Rose let that process for a moment, listening as her mother talked about ECGs and x-rays and angiograms, and sucked in a few calming breaths.
Jesus Christ. The shock of the phone call, after the fight with Kassi, and the panic of her dad being maybe dead, was enough to send her to the emergency room with chest pains.
“Are you still there?” her mum asked, her voice still quiet, but now that Rose was slowly coming back to herself, she could recognize that beneath the quiet was the strength that always lived there.<
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The strength that had walked Rose and their family through all the things—good and bad—that life had thrown at them.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just, you know, trying to find my chill.”
“How’d that work out?”
Rose laughed. “I’ll let you know if I manage it.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to make sure you knew, because by the time I get home, I’ll be so knackered, I’ll probably sleep for a month, and I know we planned to talk in the morning.”
“Well, I guess technically it is morning for you, so . . .” She trailed off, breathing in deeply and deciding to focus on something else, something more light-hearted. “I like the fact that you think you can sleep through Teaks and Sam the Man reminding you they need walkies.”
Just as she’d planned, the joke about her mum’s two dogs—she’d been rescuing dogs since long before Rose had found Wilbur, which had only heightened Rose’s desire to keep him after she’d found him—earned her a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
“Sorry I freaked out.” Sorry I’m still freaking out.
“No worries, bub. I love you.”
Smiling, even though her mum couldn’t see it, even though it was still tainted by the fear that had crashed into her when her iPad had rung, it was easier than anything to reply with, “I love you, too.”
Because it was true.
She adored her parents, who were halfway around the world, having just come through a major health scare that would, despite her mum’s positivity, have repercussions and a long-term impact on all their lives.
And she didn’t want to live half a world away from them anymore.
Chapter Eighteen
Liam watched Rose walk ahead of him to the car, laughing beneath his breath when she did something she’d done a few times since he’d known her: walked to the wrong side of it.
With an exasperated “ugh,” she skirted around to the opposite side, just in time for him to reach her and let his laughter bubble up. “Again?” he asked, waiting for her to make a face or laugh with him or roll her eyes.
Instead, her lips turned down and she looked . . . sad.
“Are you okay?” He held the door open for Rose and Wilbur to climb into his car.
“I’m fine.” Her smile was slow to come and didn’t reach her eyes.
Yeah, Liam didn’t believe that she was fine, but decided to just let it go for the moment. Nodding, he closed the door and walked around the car to settle into the driver’s seat. “Ready?” He looked over at her and caught her sigh as she stared out the window, Wilbur sitting patiently and quietly in her lap.
If nothing else, the fact that her dog wasn’t moving told him she wasn’t “fine.” Never mind the fact that he’d long ago learned that when women said they were fine, they rarely meant it. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I said, I’m fine.” She kept her eyes turned away from him and his stomach dropped.
Not only was she not fine, she was giving off all the signals that she had, or was having, major problems.
With him? With them?
God, he hoped not.
“Rosie,” he started, reaching over the center console to grab her hand, only for her to pull it away at the last second. “Rosie?”
“Please don’t call me that.” Her voice was shaky, but he couldn’t see her face, her eyes to tell if she was crying.
“Okay.” He chuckled, though it felt forced, the strain in the small space of the car making him want to roll down the windows or throw open the door. “How about Babe, can I still call you that?”
Again, he assumed she’d turn to him and roll her eyes like she so often did. Especially when it came to that nickname she claimed to dislike, but he knew she not-so-secretly loved. Which is why, when she opened her door and hopped out of his car, his mouth fell open. Quickly, he threw open his own door and turned to look at her over the top of the vehicle, seeing her reddened eyes for the first time.
“Rose?” he asked again, making sure to avoid the nicknames that were suddenly giving her so much grief.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just had a bad morning.” She tried for a smile, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she was struggling. Hard.
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head, but said, “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Shrugging her shoulders, she brought Wilbur a little closer to her, and he could see even from across the car, that she’d tightened her hold on him.
“Because we don’t have to go out, if you’re not feeling up to it. We can do whatever you want.” He started around the car, coming to a stop in front of her but leaving some distance because he had a feeling she didn’t want to be crowded right then. “Anything.”
As long as it’s together. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand it if she told him she wanted him to leave her alone. Even if it was only for a little while, he didn’t want to be away from her.
And there it was again—the biggest roadblock between them.
And the one they hadn’t yet discussed, even though she was leaving, sooner than either of them had admitted out loud. Clenching his fists, because with her upset it wasn’t the time to bring it up, he waited for her to speak.
“I had a fight with Kassi.” She turned her head away, then back to meet his eyes. “About you.”
He could hear the surprise in his own voice when he said, “Me?”
She didn’t confirm, just kept talking. “And then my mum called, because Dad is in the hospital and I was so sure he was dying. Or dead already.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she let out a shaky laugh. “God, I thought I had this under control already. Like, I sat there after we hung up and did fucking deep breathing exercises and reminded myself that I was overreacting but . . . but . . .”
“But what, sweetheart?”
Tears swelled in her eyes and tipped over, making the golden-brown stand out all the more. He loved it and hated it at the same time.
Because she was beautiful.
Because she was crying.
“I couldn’t remember where I put my passport and I couldn’t get home and—” She shrugged, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand.
He chanced a step closer, gratified when she moved in, too. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his cheek on the top of her head. Wilbur was sandwiched between them, but didn’t make a sound. He was listening for their lead, it would seem; letting them talk it out.
“I want to go home. I know that sounds all kinds of petulant and childish and you’re probably going to think I’m a giant pain in the ass, but there it is. I miss home so much, and hearing that Dad was sick was like, was like–fuck. I don’t know what.”
“It’s okay to be homesick, you know that.” They’d talked about this before—more than once, in fact, though the conversation from their first date was far and away the most memorable. “And especially after something like that.”
“I am, as Kassi so eloquently said this morning, a ‘grown-ass adult,’ Liam. Aren’t I a little old to be acting like this?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not, but I’ve never been as far from home as you are, so . . . maybe?”
As he’d planned, his “maybe” earned a snuffly laugh, and he kept talking, kept trying to offer her comfort. Because it hurt him to see her hurting.
“I told you, didn’t I, that our parents moved to Florida about four, five years ago?”
She nodded against his chest. It had been during one of their many phone conversations when he’d talked about the drama of moving vans and who was taking which furniture where. “Right, so a few months ago, I was at this animal rights march when I got knocked on the head. Beautiful woman, hell of a baseball swing.”
She pinched his side. “You’re hilarious.”
Laughing, he said, “Stick with me. I promise, I have a point.”
She leaned back, looking up at him with teary eyes and a watery smile, and said, “Okay. But get on with it.”
“So, anyway, I take a brutal, life-threatening shot to the head—two of them, in fact—and when I got home that night, after my sister had, in her own unique way, taken care of me, do you know who I found myself wanting?” He paused. “Aside from you, that is.”
“You wanted me, even then?”
“Um, yeah. Didn’t you ever wonder why I was standing close enough to risk a concussion?”
She shook her head.
“I’d seen you a couple of times that morning, and I’d wanted to talk to you. When you were right there near the clinic van, it seemed like it was the perfect time. Except . . .”
“I hit you,” she finished.
“Yep. And now you know. Anyway, the answer is: aside from you, I wanted my mom. I wanted her to come in and fuss over me like she did when I was a kid. And Babe, I’m even older than you are.”
She didn’t even blink twice when he snuck the nickname she’d earned that day back in. She did, however, get a different kind of shot in on him. “And you’re oooold. Very, very old.”
“Settle down, there’s like six years between us.”
“So old.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m ancient. No, wait, what was it? BND.” He made sure she could see his eye roll before continuing, “My point is, you’re never too old to want your parents, I don’t think. And if you’re never too old to want your parents, then who’s to say you’re too old to be homesick?”
“Really? You think so?” She asked hopefully, like she so desperately needed that to be true, that he had no compunction in nodding.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t, Rosie.” Once again, she didn’t say boo about the endearment, and that, coupled with the fact that she cuddled back in closer to him, letting her whole body relax, told him he’d said the right thing.
But, even knowing that he’d dodged the bullet so far, didn’t change the fact that they still hadn’t talked about the fact she was leaving, or decided what they’d do when she did.
It didn’t sit right with him—he hated not knowing what their future held.
Or if they even had a future at all.